


Pinkie

by Albion23



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Pointless, Southampton FC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1618661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Albion23/pseuds/Albion23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hold my hand.”<br/>How can something so easy, be so difficult?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinkie

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't know them and don't own them. None of this is true.

                The gay footballers. That’s what we’re known as. That’s what a lot of the people walking past us are thinking right now. Not as many people approach us when we’re together anymore. I guess it’s quite nice of them. The people of Southampton leaving us to ourselves.

                We’re out shopping. Not for anything in particular, just because we wanted a nice day out. I think the downside to going out in public is ‘rubbing our sexualities in people’s faces’. I don’t touch Adam, he doesn’t touch me. I don’t hug Adam and Adam doesn’t hug me. I don’t kiss Adam and Adam doesn’t kiss me. That doesn’t mean we don’t want to.

                He’s in the changing rooms of Topman now and I’m sitting outside. Just across from me is a group of three men, clearly not Southampton fans, that think I’m oh so funny for kissing boys. They try to keep their jokes and laughter quiet but it’s obvious they’re talking about me. Maybe it isn’t that obvious and I’m just used to it. I’m not sure anymore.

                Adam walks out of the cubicle and I smile. “They look good,” I say. He’s trying on a pair of jeans. “Get those ones.”

                 “Ok,” he smiles.  He’s blushing. I want to kiss him. He bends over and leans into kiss me. My eyes go wide. _Surely not here._ He cups my face and, hey, maybe everything will be ok after all. He determinedly looks at the group of men who are still staring at me, and he pushes his lips hard against mine. He tastes like minty toothpaste and Adam. He pulls away, stands up and walks back into the dressing room to change back. The men have stopped laughing. I think Adam glared at them the whole time.

 

                “Ready to go?” he asks. I zone back into reality and my head whips around to see the group of three has gone. “Jay, don’t worry about them, they were just being dicks.”

                I nod. “Yeah, yeah I’m ready.” I get up and we walk out of the shop, stopping to pay for Adam’s jeans on the way.

                “Jay,” he says, as we walk down the middle of the street. Lots of people are staring at us. I don’t see a reason for it.

                I know there’s something wrong, he only ever does that voice when there’s something wrong. So, right now, I wish I wasn’t walking down a main street. I wish we were at home and I could lie down and hold him on the couch and he could mould against me so perfectly and he could cry and then we could kiss until we fall asleep and he would forget everything bad that’s ever happened to him. But, we are in the middle of a main street, so all I can say is, “what’s up?”

                “Hold my hand.”

                Three simple words. Hold. Easy, I’m holding shopping right now. My. Something belonging to him. Hand. The part where it gets so complicated. Of course I’ve held his hands but not once have I done so in public. In public where there could be news reporters, photographers, and kids with camera phones.

                “Please,” he says. How could I say no to that?

                “Why?” I ask. My voice is close to breaking. How can something so easy to do be such a traumatic experience? I don’t want to be yelled at, to be made fun of, to be photographed.

                “I’m scared,” he says. Before he’s even finished the word my hand is over his and our fingers are intertwined. He’s just a person. He shouldn’t be scared of people. I can see why he is though. The whole street appears to come to a standstill and everyone’s eyes are on us. I see a few phones out, filming. Probably on YouTube, or the news tonight. I see some people pretending not to look but sneaking glances whenever they can. My head falls and I feel ashamed. I feel ashamed of myself for feeling ashamed.

                Adam squeezes my hand gently and his fingers slide from mine. His body moves closer though and all that’s left are our pinkie fingers curled together almost tight between our bodies. I look up and he’s smiling. A big smile. A smile I haven’t seen for a few weeks and I’m so happy he’s happy I forget about the people staring and taking pictures because they are not me. They do not know Adam. And at the end of the day, who’s here? Adam and I. We’re here and we’re together and we’re happy. So I do something that a boy and a girl can do in public, that celebrities can do in public, that footballers can do in public. But for some reason when I do it, it  ends up plastered on the front page of every newspaper up and down the country. I kiss Adam.


End file.
